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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325544">coping mechanism.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/panslabyrinths/pseuds/panslabyrinths'>panslabyrinths</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kingsman (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Minor Character Death, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:07:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/panslabyrinths/pseuds/panslabyrinths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>based off of a couple tumblr prompts: “Don’t look at me like that.” &amp; “I’m fine. Stop asking.” &amp; “You can’t keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>coping mechanism.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her older brother had been the only good thing in her life. Granted, she couldn’t say the same for him. She was a complicated woman, someone who was too difficult to handle and much too opinionated for her own good. She was frustratingly unabashed, and far too lacking in the self-care department. </p><p>Her brother was too good to her, far too kind, and far too forgiving. He put up with all her bullshit, and loved her through it all. He saw her for who she was before the booze, drugs and guns - saw who she could be, even when she forgot who that was. He didn’t have to try and always help, he had a good job working security for some whiskey making company (she learns differently later, of course), and had left her back in Texas while he made his way to Kentucky. Whilst her brother moved onto bigger and better things, becoming successful and making good money, she moved down and started to get mixed in with the wrong people. </p><p>It wasn’t always like this, either, for a while she had been doing well and was even enlisted in the police academy - ranking as the top female in her class and best overall with her weaponry. She was doing well, but the tragic cliche story of most downfalls is usually just that - tragic and cliche. A bad boyfriend who got her mixed into his bad business, promises of material goods and an everlasting love. Her brother warned her countless times, telling her that the man was no good for her and the two nearly exchanged fists when he spoke badly to her in front of her older brother. The only good decision she made while her brother was still here was leaving that boyfriend, the bad decision was that she was already knee deep in bad shit to just up and leave. </p><p>So, she didn’t.</p><p>-<br/>
When her brother died, she felt like a ghost of herself. The two men on the doorstep of her barren apartment looked upset, feeling the loss of her brother heavy on their own shoulders. This is when everything was explained to her by a man who simply went by “<em>Agent Champagne</em>”. Her brother wasn’t just running security for a whiskey company, and the low-life drug and gun running business she worked for had been the reason her brother was no longer around to bother her.</p><p>(“He was doing it for you,” Champ explains, “He wanted to get you out.”)</p><p>She couldn’t bring herself to cry, but what she did do was run straight to her bathroom and vomit all the contents of her stomach. The emotions coursing through her becoming all too much for her to handle in that single moment. </p><p>When she’s sitting across from the two men again, Champ’s voice barely meets her ears as he speaks. She knows she’s looking directly at the one in the black hat, Agent Whiskey, as he looks at her with such disdain she swears he thinks she killed her brother with her own two hands. She can’t bite her tongue, she wishes she had more self control to, but in that moment she can’t find it within herself to be polite towards Whiskey.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t look at me like that.”</em>
</p><p>She has to take her anger out on someone, she thinks, and he just happens to be the one to mess with the bull.<br/>
They’re in each other's faces before Champ can even really comprehend,Whiskey going nose to nose with her. She’s unafraid, looking at him dead in the eye while her nostrils flare with anger - and if Whiskey weren’t so angry with her he would’ve commended the bravery. But he’s too angry, and so is she, so instead they’re standing toe to toe while Champ is pushing on both of their chests and trying to yell over them to step away.</p><p>She does, and asks them to quickly leave so she can finally stop her hands from shaking and so she can focus on what she’s going to do next. Champ breaks her heart, though, explaining that they can’t do that. He explains that her brother had explicitly stated, if he had died, she was to be in the care of the Statesmen. And as angry as she was with Agent Whiskey, she couldn’t bring herself to go against anything her brother would ask. Not anymore.</p><p>Not when the guilt was clawing its way up from her stomach, into the valves of her heart, and threatening to escape through her throat like the vomit. The guilt and anger burned her insides while simultaneously turning her veins into ice, making everything ache - from her bones to her soul.</p><p>-</p><p>She learned about the Statesmen slowly, mostly unwilling. Meeting them all one by one but staying obnoxiously close to Champagne. Memories of her brother were shared between everyone as time went on, except Agent Whiskey. His own judgement clouding any sense of actually getting to know her. They both steered clear of each other for a long time, despite Champ speaking to them both individually about the matter. Whiskey was, after all, her brother’s best friend within the Statesmen. But neither of them heeded the advice. Sneers and glares were haughtily shared, and there was one more instance where Tequila had to step in between the two in question when they got into another yelling match about her brother.</p><p>(“It’s your fault he’s gone, he was trying to protect you from your shitty decisions!” Whiskey had yelled at her, she swung at him as soon as the words left his mouth. Choosing to lash out physically instead of verbally.)</p><p> </p><p>This time they completely avoid each other, and as more time passes she becomes more involved and acquainted with Statesmen business. Champ kept his last promise to her brother, and when she finally took over her brother’s title as Agent Absinthe, Agent Whiskey was none too happy. He stomped out of the meeting room despite voting her in, but tells himself it’s because it’s what her brother would’ve wanted. Not him.</p><p>They go back to not speaking, and avoid each other at all points humanly possible. This changes when they’re sent on a field mission together to watch and infiltrate the same group of people she was once affiliated with, the same group of people who killed her brother - and the same group of people who nearly killed her.</p><p>Whiskey barely got her out, and she had been covered in blood and screaming obscenities at him and the people who had killed her brother. Absinthe is barely able to walk right, and she’s leaning so heavily on him that he’s practically carrying her out. Arm wrapped around her middle, her own arms wrapped around his neck for support. She’s lame in one leg, blood oozing from a gunshot wound she had sustained early on. </p><p>(“They’re dead, Absinthe, they’re dead,” Whiskey chanted to her as he hauled her away, she’s still panting out obscenities, “I promise, they’re gone.”)</p><p>Her body is starting to feel heavy, to both Whiskey and herself. So, he gets them a safe distance away from the chaos before he stops, setting Absinthe on the ground carefully. He works quickly, removing the belt around his waist and wrapping it around her thigh. He keeps asking her under his breath if she’s okay but she’s refusing to speak or even look his way.</p><p>“Hey,” He snaps his fingers in front of her face in an attempt to get her attention. Her breathing has slowed, and she looks far away. Like she’s there, but not <em>really</em>, “You okay?”</p><p>
  <em>“I’m fine, stop asking.”</em>
</p><p>He frowns, aggravated. Whiskey wants to shoot something back at her, and feels like he has every reason to be an asshole.</p><p>“Why’d you get me out of there? You don’t even like me.”</p><p>He looks up as she speaks. She’s paler, and covered in blood in random places on her face and clothes. But when Whiskey looks at her, really looks at her, he sees the dark circles under her eyes and the smallest indent of her cheeks sinking in. The exhaustion is evident, and he can’t bring himself to recall if she actually ever cried when him and Champ came to tell her that her brother was gone. He can’t remember if she ever shed a tear when stories were shared from other Statesmen. Whiskey knows she didn’t even cry, when she had all the reason to, when he put her brother’s death on her shoulders.</p><p>“He’d kill me if I didn’t.”</p><p>The understanding is immediate, and it’s the first time he’s ever gotten a laugh out of her - granted it’s short, and akin more to a huff of a laugh than anything, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. </p><p>Whiskey shifts on his haunches in front of her, “<em>You can’t keep it all inside, y'know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.</em>”</p><p>Absinthe leans back against the wall, shoulders falling slack as she looks towards him finally, “Don’t really have anyone to talk to, do I?”</p><p>Whiskey sighs, leaning down to help her up so they can start moving again. They’re quiet for a long time, it’s a silence that - for the first time - is very comfortable between them. Neither say anything, and only when they’re both sitting on a plane to head back to the Statesmen headquarters, does Whiskey decide to say something.</p><p>“He wouldn’t want this for us,” he shifts to look at her, “And although you’ve been nothin’ but a pain in my ass, and I’ve been nothin’ but an asshole back… He’d want me to listen if you’d need it. So, I’ll listen.”</p><p>Only then, does she finally cry.</p>
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